


The Road Is Now Calling

by Chtuluchilipie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Before the quest to Erebor, Blacksmith!Thorin - Freeform, M/M, Shire AU, request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chtuluchilipie/pseuds/Chtuluchilipie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo walked as quickly as he dared, knowing dwarfs weren't anywhere near as deft on their feet as hobbits. Whenever they bent a corner or went a little further uphill, he snuck a glance of the dwarf, who seemed to be focused on the ground and scenery, brow furrowed as if pondering something serious. Each time he dared a glance, he was both relieved and disappointed to find that the dwarf's stormy blue gaze hadn't wandered to him once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not At All Expected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader4books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader4books/gifts).



> Hallo, an thanks for choosing to read this fic! It was a request for a oneshot, but I kinda went a wee bit overboard and its quickly turning into a monster. I planned on making it five chapters, but now seven seems a lot better of a number. Who knows? It might end up being longer.

Blacksmith AU request  
Ch.1

There were many reasons why Thorin did not trust people. He did not trust the elves, for they had gone back on their words and vows when they were needed the most. He did not trust wizards, they were a bothersome and confusing bunch that paid no regard to the suffering around them, yet claimed to fight for the good of the realm. He absolutely did not trust men, they were a greedy and treacherous lot that killed for pleasure, that disrespected and disregarded the females of their race, noting them as weak and useless. And what of hobbits? Thorin did not trust hobbits either. While they hadn't given him reason not to trust them, they hadn't given him reason to trust them either. So he ignored them at best he could. He did not loathe them as he did elves or men for the most part, he simply had a distaste for hobbits. Yet this distaste may have been out of envy more than anything else.

He disliked the hobbits for the lives they lived. They were a soft and comfortable people who hadn't seen suffering or faced hardships of any kind. They were a peaceful people unhardened by war, or sickness, or ruin. They hardly wanted for anything. As he traveled through The Shire he could not help but marvel at the simplistic beauty they lived in. Their entire region was remarkably peaceful and pure, untouched by the plagues of ruin that slowly crept across Middle Earth.  
He did not like the hobbits, but he needed them. Or rather, their money. 

He spent his long springs and summers traveling around, looking for work, saving up coin so that the winters weren't so harsh, so that Dís and her sons could eat and live in something akin to comfort. They'd been robbed of the life they could have lived. Fíli and Kíli were princes in their own right, they should be growing up in the halls of Erebor, in comfort and plenty. Not in a small and decrepit settlement in the abandoned blue mountains.  
Dís deserved better, Fíli and Kíli deserved better. Thorin's people deserved a better life than they had been given, and Thorin would ensure that things were made right again. He would sacrifice it all for the sake of his people and his family. 

Hence the summer in the shire. The old wizard, Tharkûn, had suggested it to him. He'd been laboring in the town of Bree for the time, the awfully wet and rotten place that it was. The work he did was worth phenomenal pay, it was well known throughout Middle-Earth that dwarfs were the best crafters one could ask for, and Thorin was exceptionally skilled beyond that. He was a master of smithing, a prodigy among his own kin, let alone men. The prices he was paid were hardly befitting of an apprentice child, nowhere near the price a dwarf who mastered his craft several decades ago. He often slept in dirty stables next to animals. Bree was hardly any better than the other villages of men where he labored, and it was there that the grey-bearded wizard had cornered him. Gandalf had suggested and rather, insisted upon Thorin heading to the Shire, and laboring there. 

He told Thorin of their prosperity, and as they had no prejudice against dwarfs, they were more likely to to pay fair wages for his labor. To seal the deal, the clever old wizard reminded Thorin that he did not wish to see his sister-son's through another hard winter, and every copper was worth it if Fíli and Kíli could sleep in warm beds with full bellies. It was at these words that Thorin caved. He reluctantly agreed that working in the Shire would befit him, and Gandalf had grinned down at him in an suspicious way that raised Thorin's hackles immediately, but it was too late. The wizard was already rambling on about the perfect forge and all the wonderful work Thorin could commission there. It was with a keen anxiety and firm nervousness that Thorin set out for the Shire.

 

•…•…•…•…•

 

Never would have Bilbo Baggins thought by the time he reached his majority, he would be well and tired of all the suitors that came knocking on his door. But it was true. He was exhausted of them all, every last and single one of them. In fact, he was hiding from one right now.  
Primrose Brandybuck was banging on his front door as if she had any right to! She wasn't from Hobbiton, which could easily explain the lack of proper behavior. She was a country lass who was a reveled beauty in the small little section of Greenfields in which she's grown up. After her coming-out party she'd fancied the idea of coming up to hobbiton to stay with some cousins, and while there she would ensure to snag herself a suitable husband. Apparently in her young and perhaps rather foolish eyes, she thought Bilbo Baggins was entirely the right sort.

It was well known the only son of Belladonna and Bungo was more than a little financially well-off, and the rumors of the rooms full of clothes just for Bilbo had spread past east farthing. The Smial in which he would inherit upon the demise of his beloved parents, was quite large, and whomever he took to be his wife or husband would be a hobbit who wanted for nothing. It didn't exactly help the situation when Bilbo was quite well versed in his debonair good looks and manners. Bilbo himself supposed it was the fine waistcoats and cravats that made him appear more handsome to his fellow hobbits, as wealth usually softened the blow of any face. 

Primrose was fully intent on claiming Bilbo as her intended, despite that he'd only ever glanced at the lass once or twice, and hadn't shown an inkling of interest. Apparently she had been Someone-Worth-Knowing in her backwater little settlement, and seemed to regard herself more than worthy of the most eligible bachelor in Hobbiton. She wasn't the first in the sentiment, and Bilbo quite feared she wouldn't be the last. 

She banged on the door with no sense of shame in the least, considering no one at Bag-End had called upon her or invited her for afternoon tea. It seemed the lass thought she could simply waltz in completely uninvited without a so much as mention of a possible visit. Ha! The scandal of it all! Perhaps that was how it was done wherever it was she came from, but that was absolutely not how things were done in Hobbiton. Which was why Bilbo was hiding from her, back pressed against the curved tunnels of his home as he contemplated where it was he could run off to without her catching sight of him. (He wouldn't put it past her to start staring in the windows) 

A soft gentle hand patted him on the shoulder and Bilbo squeaked in surprise, relaxing immediately when he met the dark hazel eyes of his mother.

"Oh. Mum, you quite surprised me…" he stuttered out, fidgeting nervously.

Belladonna raised an eyebrow, and gave him a knowing look. "Is that awful Lobeila back? Intent on courting you?"

Bilbo sighed. "It's a new one this time, I'm sad to say."

Belladonna hummed, pursing her lips and nodding her head before flashing him a mischievous grin. "Don't worry about it." She whispered conspiratorially, nodding towards the door, that was still being knocked on with a high fervor. "I'll take care of this one." She pushed him slowly towards the back of the house, motioning for him to sneak out of the back garden. "I'll hold her off for as long as I can. 

Bilbo sagged with relief, sighing and giving his mother a strong hug. "Thank you, Mum." 

Belladonna chuckled, waving him off and mouthing for him to go. 

"Bilbo! Bilbo, are you home? I should very much like to see you!" Primrose shouted from the front stoop, making both mother and son wince from the shrillness of her voice that was steadily becoming more distressed.  
Stifling a laugh, Belladonna approached the door.

"Coming dear!" She said, giving Bilbo a wink. "Bungo, I do say we have some company!"

Bilbo ran down the halls, through the dining room, through the west hall and out the back door. Grinning to himself, the hobbit clambered over the fence, running down the hill before anyone could catch a glimpse of him. He avoided the main roads, desperate on not being found by another lad or lass from his unintentional harem and squadron of those who wished for a tousle or two in the hay. 

He was not so lucky. Much to his displeasure and discomfort, he was soon spotted by a pair of Proudfoot twins; Aster and Allan. Both handsome in their own right, with small noses and downy feet hair but most definitely not Bilbo's type. He'd always had a bit of a weakness for blue eyes and dark hair, nothing at all like the fair-haired and violet-eyed twins who stood at the top of the hill, calling his name.

For a moment, he pondered his reactions. He could always run away, pretending not to have heard. Or perhaps he could smile and wave and walk on his merry way. Or maybe even he could let himself be stopped for a moment, as their company was sometimes pleasurable, even if they only wished to know him for his coffers (as in Allan's case) or his cock (which Aster had made well known). The twins decided for him though, quickly making their way down the path in a terrifying pursuit.

Without thinking, Bilbo took off running again, not at all worried at how improper he was behaving, his only thoughts were on escaping the elusive and mildly terrifying pair. He knew he should count himself lucky for the attentions of both the handsome lass and lad, but their affections while flattering, were well misplaced. Bilbo bounded on down the hill, dashing down at speeds he hadn't thought himself capable, ignoring the cries of; "Mister Baggins! Is that you? Oh please good sir, do wait!" 

He ran for a decent amount of time, heart pounding as he descended into the tree line, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening for the sounds of two hobbits chasing after him. Finding only the chirping of birds, gentle breeze of wind, and soft flow of river, he opened his eyes, turning right into a heavyset someone significantly taller than him. With a soft oof, Bilbo was knocked into the ground, what little breath he had pushed entirely out of his lungs.  
Cringing from the indelicate blow, Bilbo stood, dusting off dirt and twigs from his waistcoat. He checked his arms for any cuts or scrapes, which he was unsurprised to see on his soft forearms and hands.

"Watch where you're going." The person he ran into grumbled, voice deep and rumbling.

Bilbo blanched and straightened himself immediately, looking up into the eyes of his offender, expecting—well. Bilbo himself can't really say what he was expecting, but for a fact, it is definite to say he was no expecting to meet the eyes of an angry looking dwarf. 

The dwarf had long hair falling in dark tresses around his face, two braids framing the sides of it. He had a stately and regal chin, as well as a fairly short beard for a dwarf, one cropped shorter than what was undoubtedly the norm among his peoples. The dwarf had a rather magnificent nose, large and pointed, dominating most of his features, a nose that worked quite well on his own face, but would look wrong on anyone else's. His lips, two pale lines pressed together in annoyance were chapped, something that caught Bilbo's attention immediately. He was draped in large and heavy furs, unlike any that Bilbo had seen before, as the Shire's summers were long and hot, and the winters were mild (although there was talk of them slowly becoming colder). He had some sort of chain mail on his chest, and large vambraces on his crossed arms. His clothing was foreign and undoubtedly dwarfish. The most interesting thing about the dwarf though, were his magnificent blue eyes.  
At a first glance they might've been mistaken for a dark blue, but in actuality were a pure and royal blue, a color that immediately struck Bilbo as being divine and beyond the reaches of a simple gentlehobbit such as himself. 

He was awestruck for a moment, stunned by the dwarf's face that was uncannily familiar, scratching at the back of his mind as someone he should've remembered. Then the dwarf's scowl deepened, giving Bilbo a pitying look as if he were simple or as if he were a bug that the dwarf had stepped on. 

Bilbo bristled, glaring at the dwarf. "I'll beg your pardon, Master Dwarf!" He hissed. "Perhaps if you had made your presence known, I wouldn't have stumbled into you! It was an honest accident you good for nothing fool! I am completely entitled to roam the hills and forests of my countryfolk and kin! It is you who should be asking for my pardon! You could be a bloody King for all I care! You ought to watch where you're going!" Bilbo snapped, poking the dwarf in the chest firmly. 

The dwarf's eyes widened in surprise, and then his scowl deepened, mouth settling into something angry and disapproving. 

"How uncouth!" Bilbo continued, taking no heed of the angry glare. "As if you've the right to come into my home and make demands of me! I've never even seen you before, and you find it appropriate to boss me around?! I care not for where you come from, but that is not how thing are done in the Shire!" His voice had taken on a shrill note at this point, sounding a bit hysterical even to his own ears. 

He backed away from the dwarf, huffing out an angry "Good day, Master dwarf!" Before turning and falling right into a pond.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

He wasn't lost. He absolutely wasn't lost. He knew had to be nearing Hobbiton at some point. He had stayed on a small country road until he had set up a small temporary camp next to a small wood lingering on the edge of it. When he'd awoken the next morning, he'd been annoyed to find he could not find the road again. It took him a good portion of the day before he could find any road again, but he had known well enough that it would be best for him to settle down for an hour or so to eat. It was old musty bread and cheese of a poor quality, since it was the cheapest meal he could buy. Ever copper and silver coin saved was another copper and silver in the hands of his nephews and sister. He would never take an opportunity to be well fed from them, and if he sacrificed his own meals for it, he had no qualms about it.

He'd been packing up, about to head up the hill to find the pathway again, ready to ask any nearby hobbits for directions to the hobbit Gandalf had instructed him to find. (The wizard was remarkably vague, only mentioning the hobbit lived in Hobbiton and the hobbit's name before leaving.) Then out of the blue, a visibly distressed hobbit had come crashing through the wood, colliding right into Thorin and landing hard on the forest floor. Thorin had looked down upon the hobbit with disdain, growling out a command to better watch himself before thinking of it.

The hobbit's eyes had gone wide, his mouth dropping open, and then his ears went red, an angry flush spreading across his pale freckled skin. He rambled on incessantly about proper behavior, boring Thorin immediately. And then the hobbit had gotten up in his face, and had poked Thorin straight into the chest, sending a strange jolt of lightning down his entire body. His disdain immediately gave way to something different, something embarrassing to even so much as think in the privacy of his own mind.

The hobbit was angrily flushed, his lovely face turned into an annoyed red that Thorin quickly found ridiculously endearing. The tussle of tawny and gold curls arranged in an embarrassingly attractive mess. His eyes, large and bright had quickly gone from a watery-blue grey to an enraged hazel as he fumed up at Thorin. He glowered up at Thorin, still shouting, refusing to back down at Thorin glared back with a glare that had made many a foe larger than this halfling retreat in fear. 

Thorin's thoughts had quickly taken an embarrassing turn, and he was already in awe of the angry little creature that barely came up to his shoulder scowling up at him with pure malice. The hobbit had turned, presumably to flounce away so that Thorin might never see him again, but instead fell face first into a small little duck pond. 

The hobbit gasped, thrashing about aimlessly in the small pond for a moment, soaked to the bone. His golden curls clung to his forehead, and some water plant seemed to take up home on his shoulder. Making angry frustrated sounds and muttering to himself, the hobbit crawled out of pound, dripping water all over. The hobbit gave him a quick look, and despite Thorin's knowledge that this was a very foolish idea indeed, he approached the hobbit, offering his services before he thought better of it.

"D-do you need any assistance?" Thorin asked, awkwardly hovering over the adorable and sodden little creature. The hobbit's glare was scathing, enough to scratch at Thorin's heart painfully and oh— he could just hear Dwalin and Dís laughing at him now. The joke of it all! An exiled dwarf King already fallen into love (or something akin to it) with a hobbit he'd only just laid eyes on. 

But this was not any ordinary love. This was the love all dwarfs were taught of from a young age. Their Ones. The one whose soul theirs was made for. The one who would match and compliment them perfectly. Not all dwarfs had them, and Thorin had thought himself among them. Until 40 or so years ago, he had woken dead in the night with a firm ache in his chest. The Pull. The invisible link that led a dwarf to his or her one.  
Thorin had avoided it for years, ignored it as best as he could. He hadn't paid any kind to the Pull becoming stronger as he approached the Shire. He had just written off as his desire to be dutiful to his people, nothing more. Oh, how wrong he had been.

The hobbit huffed and pushed past him. "No thank you. I'd say you've done well enough, have you not?" 

Thorin was at a loss of words, and once agin, before he thought better of it, he blurted, "I haven't done a single thing. It is not my fault you are clumsy and cannot walk on your two feet properly without running into people and falling into ponds!" Perhaps there was too much bite and malice in his tone. Maybe his words too harsh for the gentile creature. Maybe it was the blank mask and scowl he slipped into whenever he was surprised. Either way, the hobbit flushed with rage and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.  
Instead, the hobbit flounced on past him, angrily stomping his feet the entire way, slight sloshing sounds occurring with every step he took.

Thorin stood at the bottom of the hill, admiring the wonderful bouncing of his well-rounded bum. Clearing his throat, his collar suddenly awfully tight, and his face uncomfortably warm, Thorin slung his pack over his shoulder and reluctantly made his own way up the hill.

•…•…•…•…•…•

It had taken Bilbo an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was being followed. He only noticed it when the doors started slamming shut and the hobbits retreated indoors without so much as a good-by or howdy-do. It was most likely the fault of his temper, if not for his angry muttering about rude dwarfs and wet clothes, he might've heard the loud clambering steps from behind him. But when he did notice, he thought on how to react to his stalker. Should he yell? Scream for help? Throw a rock? Run away? These troublesome thoughts brewed in him for quite a ways of time before he turned around suddenly and demanded to know why he was being followed.

The dwarf reddened lightly, fidgeting a bit. 

"Well? Out with it!" Bilbo snapped, glaring up at the dwarf whose height was far superior. 

The dwarf cleared his throat. "I'm lost." He mumbled.

Bilbo sighed, more than a little exasperated. "So you decided to follow the first hobbit you met?"

The dwarf said nothing, only looked away from Bilbo, but his flush might've deepened. 

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Where are you going then? I'd rather have you not follow me all the way home." 

The dwarf cleared his throat. "Um. I believe I am looking for the hobbit Belladonna Took."

Bilbo felt a cold wave of shock, but he was determined not to show it. "May I ask why?" 

The dwarf narrowed his eyes in suspicion, giving Bilbo a strange look. "I was sent to find her by the Grey Wizard. Any matter beyond that does concern you."

Bilbo sputtered and his eyebrows shot up. "Well! Well I would say it does concern me as I am her son, and if you are going to her home, that means you are going to mine, Master Dwarf and I would like to know what business you have with my family!" Bilbo said, leaning forward into the dwarf's face. 

The dwarf's face was undoubtedly red now, and his eyes were wide with blatant shock. Heat was rolling off the dwarf in thick and heavy waves, reminding Bilbo of how far he's gone into the dwarf's personal space. He had his finger pointed in the dwarf's face, and they were both breathing quite heavily, staring at each other wide wide eyes. The dwarf's mouth was open, and he subtly licked his lips, Bilbo's eyes flitting to them automatically. For half a moment Bilbo fancied leaning forward and licking them himself. 

Bilbo gasped at the thought and jolted away from the dwarf, his own face heating up. "I—er… um. I suppose I'll show you the way then." Bilbo stuttered out, twisting his favorite handkerchief— the pale cream one with the carnations embroidered onto the side, along with his initials, in his hands. 

The dwarf still looked shocked and fairly surprised, but he nodded, slipping his face into an unreadable expression. 

Bilbo walked as quickly as he dared, knowing dwarfs weren't anywhere near as deft on their feet as hobbits. Whenever they bent a corner or went a little further uphill, he snuck a glance of the dwarf, who seemed to be focused on the ground and scenery, brow furrowed as if pondering something serious. Each time he dared a glance, he was both relieved and disappointed to find that the dwarf's stormy blue gaze hadn't wandered to him once.


	2. Oh dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride tends to get in the way of things, and misunderstandings don't make it any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Chapter two of the blacksmith request. In all honesty, I don't have muh of anything to say about this chapter, except that I hope it's to your liking.

As it turned out, Belladonna had known of the dwarf's arrival, but it had slipped her mind after the disastrous events that had occurred that morning. Her good friend Gandalf the Grey had written to her, imploring that she help the dwarf find work or set up a forge in Hobbiton. He also requested that the dwarf be given temporary lodgings, for reasons not inclosed. Bilbo blanched at hearing this information, and immediately set to fretting. 

The lack of propriety was appalling. He, Bilbo Baggins had shouted at his mother's guest, pushed the dwarf in the chest, called him horrid names and all together was being a terrible host. He didn't even know the dwarf's name, for Yavanna's sake!

The dwarf kept to himself for the most part, settling in a room the overlooked the orchard, leaving only for meals and for work at the forge. The previous blacksmith had been all too happy about someone taking over for a while, intent on taking a holiday. 

Bilbo hardly ever saw the dwarf, as the dwarf hardly ate with them, and only ate three meals as compared to their seven. When he did though, their interactions were brief and awkward. The dwarf didn't even offer him a nod, or a simple word of recognition. Bilbo always gave him an awkward smile and stilted finger wave, and the dwarf stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before turning to leave.

Bilbo wasn't entirely sure why, but the dwarf unnerved him so much. He was entirely much too familiar, like a melody Bilbo had heard once, but couldn't place. The dwarf was mysterious to say the least. When Bilbo awoke, he was gone, out to work at the hot forge further into Hobbiton. When Bilbo went to bed, he didn't see the dwarf walk in the house. In fact, he hardly saw the dwarf leave or come back. If he did, he was always greeted with the same awkward ritual. Him waggling his fingers, straining to smile, the dwarf staring at him until he feared he was going to faint, then leaving before he could. 

Bilbo was curious about the dwarf, if not for the sake of knowing just to know. When he expressed his curiosity, he said as much, urging whomever was listening that he only wished to know the nature of his houseguest, nothing more. Perhaps though, when he really thought about it, it was more than that. He couldn't pinpoint his interest exactly, but it was there nonetheless. 

It was after a week or so of this before the lock on the front door had broken, which was quite problematic, as Bilbo's ridiculous gaggle of suitors was prone to trying to edge their ways into his home. 

Bilbo fretted over this, but his mother provided an easy solution. She smirked in a rather suspicious manner, lacing her hands delicately over the large tome she'd been reading. She looked at her husband, Bungo, who was sipping on another cup of tea, eyebrows raised in a manner that said 'not my business' Belladonna tilted her head at her son, beaming.

"Our dwarf can undoubtedly repair the lock, couldn't he Bungo?" Belladonna said, looking far too innocent. Bungo only grunted at her, rolling his eyes at her ridiculous antics. 

Bilbo swallowed, becoming quite uncomfortable. "Oh." He said softly, looking down at his furry toes.

"Bilbo, I am awfully tired, and your poor Da is fairly old—"

Bungo gave her a dirty look, scandalized at being mentioned as "old". 

"So perhaps you could do your pitiful parents a favor and ask the Master Dwarf to replace it?" She asked.

Bilbo felt his chest squeeze at the thought, but he could hardly refuse. Not only would it be an insult to his mother, who so politely asked him to do her one small favor. Besides, he already had business in town anyway, preparation for the Solstice Festival. So the hobbit scratched at his nose in self-consciousness, before nodding and mumbling a half-hearted yes. Feeling incredibly embarrassed for reasons unbeknownst to him, he shucked his hands in his pockets, fetched his muted yellow jacket, and grabbed a coin purse, waving his parents goodbye.

Bungo only huffed a sigh, and Belladonna grinned all too gleefully, insisting that he hadn't need to rush. 

On his walk, he was only stopped once or twice, a brief pause to have a quick conversation beyond one's hellos, good-bys and howdy-dos. Winston Bolger was sitting on a fence, dark curls twisting towards all corners of the Shire, smoking a pipe and giving Bilbo a merry wave. Bilbo waved back, ignoring the wink sent his way, along with the muttering of Winston's mother Pansy, who'd grabbed him by the ear and yelled about proper behavior. Bilbo continued on down the hill, until he'd reached the market. He went to his tailor first, fixing up his final measurements for what would soon be a lovely outfit for the Summer festival indeed. Next, he chatted with Drogo Baggins, his distant cousin on his father's side. Then, the hobbit continued on his merry way, purchasing some wares, not caring at all for the strange looks he received for the seemingly random bits and baubles he bought. Admittedly, his purchases were bought from impulse and were in fact randomly acquired. He was stalling, to be brutally truthful. 

Each time he took another step nearing the smithy's where the dwarf was, his heart gave painful throbs that quickened and his cheeks were set ablaze. As the clangs of iron against metal hit his ears, he began to panic. He looked around the corner into the forge, and a blast of warmth hit his face as he snuck a glance of the dwarf. He squeaked in surprise as he caught a glimpse of long dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and large forearms straining as a large metal hammer came crashing down on whatever it was being crafted. Heart pounding, and face flushed Bilbo hurried away from the forge, intent on not coming back ever. The sounds of metal clanging against metal stopped, and there was the hot sound of water turning to steam. 

"Master Baggins?" The dwarf called in his low voice, and nearby hobbits froze to look at the retreating Bilbo. Bilbo flinched, turning around slowly to see the dwarf drenched in sweat, dark blue tunic clinging to his skin in all the right places and oh my. 

Bilbo was in for a bit of trouble indeed. 

He looked up to meet the dwarf's eyes, that pure royal blue narrowed in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. Heart pounding, Bilbo took several steps nearer the dwarf, twisting his hands anxiously. Bilbo stared down at his feet and chanced a glance up at the dwarf, whose face was stony and unreadable. 

"Um. I…er—" Bilbo stuttered, swallowing and face flaming.

"Master Baggins?" The dwarf repeated, eyebrows raised in what seemed to be nervous apprehension. "Would you get on with it, please?"

"Master Baggins?" Bilbo said, face scrunching up into a scowl. "Please, do not call me that. I am not the master of Bag-End, that is my father, and I'm much too young to be considered master of anything really. I shouldn't be the master of Bag-End for another twenty years or so, I expect. Hopefully later, as I don't really fancy my father dying anytime soon. It's just Mister Baggins for me! Or perhaps Mister Bilbo? Whichever you prefer. You could call me Bilbo, if you'd like. But that's hardly proper, although it isn't as if you'd know that, since you've never really been to Hobbiton before? Right. I thought so—" 

"Mister Baggins." the dwarf interrupted, scowling firmly. "Unless you need something I'm going to insist that you leave, as you are distracting me from my work, and I have much to do."

Bilbo's face flushed again, and the hobbit felt the flush spread from the tips of his ears to his toes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "My mother sent me to commission a lock for our front door."

"Do you have it with you?" The dwarf asked, startling Bilbo from his stupor. 

"Pardon?"

The dwarf blinked, and exhaled from his nose in mild annoyance. "Do you have the lock with you?"

"No, sorry. I hadn't thought…"

"No matter." The dwarf said, turning so he could continue working.

"Should I pay you now?" Bilbo asked, fidgeting in the doorway. 

The dwarf cast him a glance over his shoulder. "Pay me when you see fit."

"I don't understand." Bilbo said, blanching when the dwarf gave him another look. "Er–What I mean to say is, when will it be done?"

The dwarf heaved another sigh, turning around to face Bilbo. "When I return to your home I shall check upon it then. As for when it can be done, I should guess by two afternoons from now."

Bilbo couldn't help his sound of protest. Two days?! It would take far less than that for his harem to realize that the lock was broken, and who knew all the atrocious things they would do once it was known? He wouldn't have a shred of privacy! They would manipulate his time and destroy what little peace he had in his life. 

"But—" he mumbled out.

"Is there a problem?" The dwarf asked, taking a step closer, stepping right into Bilbo's space, his incredible mass and heat overpowering the hobbit's senses. Bilbo blushed again, and took a step back, tripping over his feet and landing right into a pile of finished products. Face flaming, the hobbit stuttered out an apology and withdrew himself from the pile, quickly retreating from the forge, briskly walking down the stone path. 

Once he was out of sight from the center of Hobbiton, he broke for a run, heart pounding as he ran through the wood and over fences as he neared his house. He slammed the door once he entered, pressing his back against it, chest heaving as he ran a hand through his mussed hair.

 

•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo Baggins was a bit of a strange hobbit, that much was clear. 

A gaggle of hobbits, both male and female followed him constantly, peering from behind trees and fixtures to giggle and wave. Bilbo was always courteous to them, smiling and waving back, but when they ran off to marvel over the hobbit, his smile sunk and he heaved large annoyed sighs along with eye rolls.

The hobbit had stopped by the forge where Thorin worked, face flaming, stuttering and babbling incessantly. He'd even tripped when he went to leave, knocking over shelves of finished works for sale and landing in a pile of pots and pans. He squeaked when he apologized, scurrying to get up from the pile.   
It was almost pitiful that Thorin found the entire thing charming.

Thorin did indeed look upon the front door, and sighed at the craftsmanship of the lock. It was decently made, but it made sense that it hadn't lasted so long. The lock was more decorative than sensible, like most hobbit things he'd seen so far. For a moment he considered why it was that Mister Baggins was so flustered and befuddled. Perhaps it had something to do with Thorin's lack of smiling? It was well known within his kin that he had a face that looked annoyed at almost all times, even when that wasn't the case.  
It wasn't something he could help really, but he found himself trying to think up ways to make the hobbit comfortable in his presence. Shaking his head at his foolishness, Thorin closed his eyes and went to sleep, dreaming of a small and nimble little hobbit with flowers in his hair.

When he woke the next morning, hours before the hobbits rose, he pulled himself from bed, looking out on over the orchard behind the house, or smial as the hobbits called it. After a short bath, the King-In-Exile combed through the dark tresses of his hair, braiding with the water from the basin and the hair oil he carried almost always. Dressing quickly and efficiently, Thorin pulled his pack over his shoulder, trekking his way into the kitchen and pantry. As always, the dwarf had planned to grab some bread, some cheese and perhaps some jerky, for a long day at the forge, but things could not go as planned. For when Thorin entered the kitchen quietly, he was greeted with the sight of Bilbo Baggins fussing over a large pot of something on the stove, humming lowly to himself and flitting about the kitchen.

For a moment Thorin hung back, appreciating the sight of a mildly frazzled and sleepy hobbit go about making breakfast. 

Bilbo's curls were tousled, messy and uncombed, arranged on his head in a comical manner. His shirt was partially mis-buttoned, and Thorin could just make out a pale hairless sliver of skin underneath. His bracers were still down, dangling about past his hips. There was a tracing of flour on his cheeks, and perhaps a bit of sugar on his ruddy elbows. Muttering to himself, the hobbit dashed for the oven, placing on some oven mitts and pulling out some rather delectable blueberry scones that made Thorin's stomach rumble loudly.

Bilbo jolted at the sound, eyes wide and mouth open, before his startled expression quickly gave way to something happy and cheerful. He beamed at Thorin, mouth fading into a cheery grin.

Thorin's stomach twisted in something that was definitely not hunger. Or rather, a different type of hunger that had nothing to do with the scones the hobbit held. 

"Good, you're awake!" Bilbo said. Placing his hands on his hips and giving Thorin a sideways look. "I wasn't sure when you'd be up, but I figured it'd be at some ungodly hour…" he said quietly, thoughtfully, almost as if speaking to himself. Then he flashed Thorin another grin, and Thorin's heart pounded strangely and his stomach clenched.

Feeling strangely embarrassed and mildly annoyed with himself for being embarrassed in the first place, unthinkingly Thorin blurted "That won't be necessary." 

Bilbo blinked, and his mouth fell open. Blinking rapidly, with a confused and dazed look on his face, he uneasily twisted his hands. "I— I'm afraid I don't exactly understand." He stuttered out, cheeks flushing into a lovely pink. 

Thorin felt himself flush in response. "I do not require your sympathies, Mister Baggins. The purpose was thoughtful, but as it is, I do not need or want your pity meals."

Bilbo looked quite flummoxed, mouth opening and closing in a manner similar to that of a fish. He blinked at Thorin haplessly, confused beyond belief, but his confused and rosy flush quickly ebbed into something less polite. Face scrunching up into a scowl, eyes narrowing and face flushing to a furious red, Bilbo glared up at Thorin. 

"It wasn't pity, Master dwarf." Bilbo spat out, positively seething at this point. "I just thought it would be kind to see you off with a meal before you went to work, but I can see that my kindness was misplaced." 

Thorin's stomach chose that exact moment to grumble. 

Now it was Thorin's turn to flush in embarrassment. Huffing a sigh, and avoiding Bilbo's gaze, Thorin turned out the door and quickly left the hobbit hole. It wasn't until he'd reached the Forge did he realize he had forgotten to grab his usual meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think, and sorry btw for being so slow about responding to some very lovely comments, things have been kinda hectic lately.


	3. Confounded Dwarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to amend things. Belladonna cackles. Thorin is a shy little baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for the update! Also, for those of you who're waiting for the Our Long Forgotten Home update, I'm super sorry!!! I know I'm being really slow about updating, and the new chapter is only halfway done! The only reason this is being updated right now is because I wrote it a while ago. I'm busy as heck, so bear with me a little longer, the semester is about to end.

Perhaps Bilbo felt a little guilty over his words. They were hastily thrown at the dwarf, out of a fit of blind rage and embarrassment. He internally cursed and chided himself for the lack of propriety! He knew better. He shouldn't have let his pride get in the way at all. And now that poor dwarf was probably working away, sweaty and exhausted, without a proper morsel of food! As far as Bilbo knew, the poor dwarf only ate three meals a day!  
It was no wonder he hardly smiled.

It was these thoughts that possessed him to gather together a meal for the dwarf, a proper one. The breakfast he'd made was cooked with the most proper of intentions. He assumed that the dwarf, whatever his name was, was awfully lonely, and that he could use some friends. If anything, his terrible reaction only convinced Bilbo that he was right, and the dwarf could use a bit of friendliness. 

Fidgeting nervously, Bilbo approached the forge, hands clenching on the basket to the point that the wickers actually dug into the soft flesh there. He could hear the loud clangs as he approached, and the sound made his heart beat in a quick staccato, sweating in nervousness. Swallowing his fear, and ignoring the pit of anxiety in his stomach, Bilbo treaded on, entering the hot forge, a blast of warm air slapping him in the face.  
Bilbo made to clear his throat, but as he laid his eyes on the dwarf, all that came out was a strange low-pitched garbled sound.

The dwarf was practically in the nude.

His long jet locks were pulled up into another ponytail, but a few strands escaped, plastering themselves to his sweaty neck and back. And oh dear— what a lovely back it was. The dwarf's muscles were sublime, and his back was well sculpted, muscles rippling as he brought his hammer down onto the anvil. Bilbo's mouth legitimately watered at the sight. The dwarf's dark pants clung to his bum in the most wonderful of ways, accenting the two well formed mounds. Bilbo must've made another choked noise, because the dwarf turned, with a look of alarm on his face, and Bilbo almost lost it.  
The dwarf's chest easily outdid any of that which he'd seen in his life. Now, Bilbo began to understand why it was said that dwarfs were carved from stone. Thick tufts of hair covered the toned chest and stomach, centering on his pecs and lowering down into the waistband of his trousers. Sweat flowed down the dwarf's front, pooling on the waist of his pants, filling the small forge with a deep hot and musky scent. The dwarf dropped his hammer, and he crossed his arms, the thick muscles flexing slightly. Bilbo very nearly sighed from the lovely sight, and then he blushed, realizing he'd been ogling the dwarf for a good long moment, and the dwarf had undoubtedly noticed.

Ears reddening, Bilbo glanced up at the dwarf from underneath his fringe, biting his lip and looking down at his hands. "I-er, well I brought you something for luncheon. I thought that you might be hungry. And— I also wanted to apologize for this morning. I hadn't intended to offend. I only wished to be hospitable and friendly." 

Bilbo chanced another glance upwards, surprised when he saw the dwarf looked neither appalled or annoyed.  
"Let me get cleaned up first," the dwarf said, an unreadable look in his eyes. Bilbo opened his mouth to say that it was fine, that the dwarf could eat alone, and that the meal was intended for him and him alone, but the shy glance the dwarf gave him from over his shoulder as he turned away, almost as if he was checking if Bilbo was still there, made him hold his tongue. 

Within a short amount of time, the dwarf emerged, lightly clothed and no longer drenched in sweat. His hair was still pulled back into its ponytail though, and Bilbo found himself admiring the jet locks that still clung to the back of his neck. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Bilbo carried the basket out of the forge, ears burning. He could imagine that he felt the dwarf's gaze on his back, unwavering and strong. The dwarf followed Bilbo down the small stone path, not protesting a single bit as the path led into the forest, and out again, into a small flower-flicked meadow.

Bilbo turned to see the dwarf's reaction, and he blanched when he saw the dwarf staring down at him with an intense expression.

"Before—before we settle down for a picnic, I wanted to ask you something."

The dwarf didn't say anything, he only raised an eyebrow, a silent inquiring of what Bilbo wished to ask.

"What is your name?" 

The dwarf's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Well, I wish to cause no offense, Master dwarf. And I do apologize if I have breached some sort of cultural taboo. I only wished to inquire as to what your name was. I was only curious! I didn't mean to pry, and I am deeply sorry if I have caused you any distress. As it is, you haven't told me your name, and I hadn't the gall to ask until now, and I was oh so dreadfully curious!" Bilbo babbled, face flaming in his embarrassment.

"Thorin." The dwarf said softly, eyes blazing, causing Bilbo to stop his embarrassing rant.

"Pardon?" Bilbo asked, still flustered.

"Thorin Oakenshield. It's what I'm known by." The dwarf supplanted. 

"Oh." Bilbo said softly. "And er, well, I'm Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin nodded solemnly, deep blue eyes flickering away for a moment, before looking back at Bilbo. 

Bilbo had very nearly lost his voice for the moment. Clearing his throat, he shook himself from his stupor, and silently thanked Yavanna that he'd had the luck of a blanket remaining at the very bottom of the basket. Muttering to himself, he placed the blanket down, kicking away stones so the sitting would be comfortable. He motioned for Thorin to sit, and the dwarf did, albeit awkwardly. 

Bilbo flopped down next to him, and retrieved the foodstuffs from the basket, shoving treat upon treat to the dwarf, who ate silently without protest. More than once Bilbo's shoulder or hand brushed across the dwarf, and he always mumbled an apology, face burning as tingles erupted on the appendage on which he'd brushed against Thorin. More than once he caught himself looking at the dwarf from underneath his fringe or his eyelashes. More than once he found himself appreciating the dwarf's mouth as he scarfed down the food he'd been given.

•…•…•…•…•…•

It wouldn't be suffice to say that Bilbo had become something of a friend to Thorin. Sure enough, they got along reasonably well, when it was that they weren't arguing,(which occurred quite often) but it wasn't fitting to call Bilbo a friend. Especially when Thorin wished to be so much more than that. 

The hobbit was his One, after all. The supreme love he'd feel unconditionally. The true love that would pale all others. When the hobbit has first shown up at the forge, mumbling a shy apology and shuffling his feet, Thorin had been amused and quite endeared at the sight. It was adorable. Despite himself and his usual abrasive nature, he's allowed the hobbit his picnic. The picnic was pleasant, as the company was nice, and the weather delightful. He'd never expected Bilbo to return the next day for another picnic, just as much as he hadn't expected another picnic the day after that, the day after that, and the day after that as well. Every day that Thorin worked, the hobbit would stop by the forge, carrying a picnic basket and a shy grin. Bilbo was just so genuine and charming, Thorin couldn't help but feel pleasure at the hobbit's regular visits and doting.

Thorin was already cleaning up, intent on being clean and presentable by the time Bilbo stopped by. The forge was large enough for Thorin to change in the back, and there was a basin for him to wash up with. Thorin took his hair from the leather band he used to pull it back, running his hands through the long tresses for a moment, thinking for a moment of his sister, whose hair was identical to his own. There was a slight knock on the ajar doorway of the forge, and a quiet clearing of the throat.

"Thorin…?" Bilbo called out hesitantly, making Thorin smile. Just a little. For just a moment. 

The dwarf emerged from the back, his chest warming up as he examined the small little hobbit in the doorway. 

Bilbo gave him a small smile, and raised the basket he carried. "You know the drill." He said, chuckling lightly. The hobbit was dressed a fair bit more casually today, opting out of his usual waistcoat and jacket, settling for a pale linen shirt, his bracers and trouser-shorts. Thorin raised an eyebrow at the attire, and the hobbit shrugged a little. "It's hot."

Thorin nodded dimly, stepping out of the forge and closer to the hobbit. "Aye. It is." He looked down at Bilbo, tilting his head and gifting him a small smirk, delighting in the awed expression the hobbit made.  
Bilbo cleared his throat again, and started down on the usual path, his ears tinged red.  
•…•…•…•…•

For the most part the other hobbits did not interact with Thorin, but the dwarf didn't mind in the least. If anything he preferred it that way. They were a skittish bunch, and just being in their presence for too long made his skin itch from nerves alone. The same went for Bilbo, but the nervousness Thorin received after being around the hobbit was of a different sort. 

A sort that had far too much to do with the sly way the hobbit would look at him from underneath his eyelashes, and the way he smiled slowly when he saw Thorin. 

For the most part, the other hobbits didn't make any effort to speak to Thorin, (besides from buying and selling) at least until now. A young hobbit lass stood in the doorway of the forge, sneering at Thorin as if he was detestable. She was attractive, by hobbit standards Thorin assumed,and perhaps if she'd had a beard she would have made a very pretty dwarrowdam, but the point is mute. The hobbit lass was blessed in her fine features, her soft upturned nose, her plump rosy lips and long eyelashes. The curls atop her head was a dark blond that closely resembled the color of dry brittle sand. Her eyes were a intelligent and inquisitive green, sharp in their knowledge. She wore a green dress that paired nicely with her eyes, this much was clear to Thorin. She was adorned in ribbons and laces and ruffles, but despite the pleasantries that cushioned her body, she looked quite put out and more than a little disgusted.

"It's you then?" She sneered at Thorin.

Thorin's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"You're the one Bilbo has been running off with every afternoon?" She hissed, tutting at the end, breaking off any reposes or protests he'd been building up. 

"I don't know what the poor hobbit is thinking! Consorting around with some dirty dwarf, one hardly befitting of his own status. Frolicking about in the woods, coupling in dirty cellars like rats." She sneered at him, somehow able to look down her nose despite Thorin's far superior height. 

It was at this moment that Thorin had had enough. He did not like this hobbit, or the way she spoke of Bilbo. As if she had any right to look down upon him. Bilbo Baggins was worth ten times the amount of the entire bloody Shire, and it would do well for his fellow hobbits to know of such. Puffing up his chest, and standing a bit straighter so that he took up more space, Thorin glared down at the lass. It was his fiercest glare, the infamous Durin glare that often made Orcs flinch, let alone small entitled and pompous hobbits. The lass visibly paled, and her eyes widened as she stared at the foreboding dwarf. Thorin crossed his arms and took a step forward, disgustingly pleased by the fearful steps she took back.

"I do not know what you are implying." Thorin growled. "But I do know that you mean to question Mister Baggins' character and reputation. I will not tolerate badmouthing of any kind against Bilbo Baggins. He is worth more than your Shire ten times over. Anyone who dares to disrespect him will answer to me, and I shall not be so lenient a second time."

The hobbit lass gasped at him, looking positively scandalized and more than a bit terrified. Struggling for words and making the most distraught sounds as she scurried away, casting concerned glances over her shoulder. Doubtlessly to see if the terrifying dwarf was following her.  
•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo was very put out. Cross. Displeased. Vexed. Dissatisfied. Annoyed. Irked. Peeved. Perhaps even aggravated.

That cursed dwarf! That ridiculous and rude dwarf of his had had the nerve to threaten Primrose Brandybuck! Perhaps Thorin wasn't aware, but any choices he made would affect the Baggins Household reputation as a result. Guilty by association, of course.  
Not that Bilbo was worried much about his household name, it was Thorin's reputation he was worried more about. He could not stand the mere idea of the hobbits badmouthing his dwarf, or even so much as send him rude looks. But knowing the way that rumors and gossip spread about Hobbiton, it was probably too late. Already his dwarf was most likely branded as rude and obstinate. Which much to Bilbo's surprise, was more upsetting than the idea of his own name carrying a stigma. 

Yes, he was not pleased, not pleased at all with Thorin, but perhaps he had gone too far. He had been so upset that he had refused to go down to the Forge and carry on with their tradition of afternoon picnics. Instead he had seethed inside his home, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself angrily as his parents sent each other amused looks that he completely missed. He was very very very displeased with Thorin, but after an hour or so he began to feel guilty.

Was his dwarf hungry? Was he waiting in the forge, staring at the open entrance and waiting for Bilbo to come? Had he given up hope and gone back to work? Had he been sad at all over Bilbo's lack of presence? Was he angry with Bilbo for not coming? Was he unaffected by the hobbit's ignoring him? Blast it all! How did Thorin feel? Did he care? What was he thinking right then? 

Bilbo's stomach churned with anxiety as he nervously paced the smial. Muttering still , he went into the kitchen to assist his parents with dinner, Bungo insisting that fretting would do him no good, Belladonna murmuring that cooking might take his mind off of his troubles. Hands shaking, Bilbo nervously peeled at a carrot, scratching at his skin more than once, earning a few scrapes and nicks. Bungo had sighed when he'd seen his son's "sliced up hands", insisting that Bilbo was being of no use. Bilbo was quickly ushered out of the kitchen, huffing in annoyance at his parents' sudden changes in temperament and opinion. Muttering to himself again, Bilbo stepped outside and into the garden so he could have a smoke to settle his nerves. Much to his displeasure, he found the object of his anxiety already outside, walking up to the front door from the path. 

Both Thorin and Bilbo froze when they looked at each other, and for his part, Thorin looked remarkably unfazed. Which was the exact opposite of what Bilbo had been expecting. If anything, Thorin's lack of expression was what sparked Bilbo's second wave of infuriation and what sent him into his longwinded tirade. He expected Thorin to be affected by his lack of presence, he wanted Thorin to be affected. The dwarf looked anything but, which was more than a bit enraging for Bilbo. 

"H--How dare you?!" Bilbo sputtered, taking several steps towards the dwarf. Bilbo's face was already quite red, for reasons unknown to him, so for his part, he looked somewhat terrifying to those unused to the expression he currently wore, due to his unusual red coloring and scrunched up face. Thorin took several steps back, looking a bit perplexed and perhaps uncomfortable.

'Good!' Bilbo had thought to himself, pleased to have made the dwarf discomforted. 'It's the least he deserves for the stunt he's pulled of late!'

"How dare you do what you have done?" Bilbo shrieked, flailing his arms about. "Do you have no idea of how rude you have been? You pigheaded stubborn dwarf! Perhaps we shire-folk are too simple as compared to an "oh so great" dwarf like yourself, but I expected better of you! You really ought to apologize to Miss Brandybuck for the fright you've given her! Really, Thorin!"

Thorin's confused expression quickly jumped to an angered one. "Forgive me Bilbo, I had not thought it would have offended you to stand for your honor. I had thought the protection of a friend's repute was a well received notion, but obviously, I was mistaken." He said coldly, taking several steps of his own, backing Bilbo up towards the door. 

"I do not care for my own reputation Thorin!" Bilbo argued. "The Baggins name is built upon centuries of honor and respect. It would take more than the badmouthing of a jealous hobbit lass from Yavanna-knows-where to damage it. I understand the sentiment behind the deed, but it was unnecessary and more than a bit excessive! You gave the poor lass quite a fright!"

"What of it?" Thorin snapped. "Why should I care for the feelings of some impudent hobbit who dared to speak poorly of my One—"  
Thorin broke off, paling as he took a step back and swallowed. He shook his head, huffing out a frustrated breath as he looked away from Bilbo. "I see the err of my ways now, Mister Baggins. I had not intended to put you or anyone for that matter, in distress."

Perhaps it was the dejected look upon Thorin's face, or the crestfallen sound of his voice, but Bilbo found himself apologizing. "No— no. Thorin, I understand. You were only trying to stand up for me…"Bilbo looked down at his hands, speaking rather softly. "And I cannot fault you for that. You did not know the customs of my people, and for me to expect that of you is ludicrous."  
Bilbo took a step towards Thorin and gripped one of the dwarf's large warm hands in both of his own, looking up from underneath his eyelashes and smiling. "I apologize for any hurt feelings I may have caused."

Thorin seemed pleased for a moment, but then he looked down at their hands and frowned. "Bilbo!" He gasped with a small hint of alarm. "What has happened to your hands?" 

Bilbo flushed and immediately pulled them to his chest. "N-nothing." 

Thorin glared. "It didn't look like "nothing"."

Bilbo glared back. "I'm fine, Thorin. I just scraped my hands while peeling carrots is all." 

"Let me see." Thorin commanded.

Bilbo shook his head, and Thorin sighed in exasperation. "Bilbo, let me see your hands. Despite what you might think, I know a fair bit about treating wounds."

"It's not a wound." Bilbo protested.

But Thorin didn't budge, staring undeterred by the hobbit's refusal. Sighing reluctantly Bilbo exposed his lightly cut hands to Thorin, hissing in pain when Thorin squeezed gently. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at that, almost smirking.

"Nothing?"

"Oh do shut up." Bilbo growled.

•…•…•…•…•…•  
Bilbo sat in his armchair, blushing in the firelight as Thorin gently bandaged his hands. The dwarf had been tender and surprisingly diligent, washing the cuts and applying ointment to them, finishing up with some easy bandaging. The room was a bit darker now, and Bilbo was grateful for the dim lighting. His blushes were embarrassing enough when he was the only one to know of them. Thorin finished in his ministrations, giving Bilbo's hand a slight and gentle pat. 

"I am sorry, you know." Bilbo blurted suddenly, ears burning as he stared down at his hands. Thorin was trying to catch his eye, but Bilbo was stubborn, and refused to meet his gaze. After a moment of this silent battle, the dwarf caved.

"Whatever for?"

"For abandoning you."

"Abandoning me?" Thorin repeated.

Bilbo's face became even hotter, if such was possible. "For not going to see you down at the forge. Like we always do."

"Ah." Thorin said, scratching his beard and pulling back. "I see."

Bilbo squinted at him. "Do you really?"

Thorin shrugged a shoulder. "I think I understand well enough."

"And what is it that you understand?" Bilbo asked.

"You feel guilty that you hadn't gone to see me. Do not worry, Bilbo. You had made no promise that your visits would be a regular thing, and in all honesty I had expected you to stop coming sooner."

There was a painful twist to Bilbo's heart as he realized the hurt he'd caused his dwarf. Thorin may not have said so, but it was obvious that Bilbo had hurt his feelings, whether he'd admit to it or not. Sighing, Bilbo tilted Thorin's head up to meet his gaze. 

"Thorin." Bilbo said, smiling a little when the intense blue flicked up to meet his hazel. "I really did mean it when I said I was sorry. I had not intended to hurt your feelings. I would never wish to do that."

Thorin nodded once, cheeks warming underneath Bilbo's hands. This was when the hobbit realized he still hadn't drawn his hands away from Thorin, and had no deigns upon doing so. He liked touching Thorin, he liked the warm skin underneath his palms, he adored the scratchy feeling of a beard on his fingers, he loved the way Thorin's lips parted when he ran his thumb over them. Bilbo looked up to meet Thorin's eyes, and upon no obvious disgust, he continued in his gentle ministrations. Caressing the dwarf's cheeks, ghosting his fingers over the warm mouth. Emboldened by the dwarf's clear acceptance, Bilbo leaned forward to cross the distance, hesitating for a moment, unsure of going the entire way. Then Thorin surged forward, and their mouths were meeting. 

It was a gentle kiss, as lovely as could be, petal soft lips a delicious contrast to the rough beard. Bilbo tilted his head to be accommodating, opening his mouth just so, belly clenching at the quick flick of a hot tongue. Bilbo leaned further into the kiss, pressing his chest against Thorin's, moaning softly when Thorin's hands tightened on his waist. 

"Dinner!" Belladonna called in a suspiciously chipper voice, jolting Bilbo from his reverie, drawing him out of the lovely kiss. 

Bilbo pulled back and away from Thorin, face burning. Exhaling, he licked and touched his lips, marveling to himself at the sensitivity, not missing the darkened look in Thorin's gaze. Clearing his throat, and moving to stand, Thorin stepped back, eyes unwavering from Bilbo's face. "Coming!" Bilbo called back at his mother, looking back at Thorin for just a moment, and those delicious lips of his.

Losing his control for a moment, Bilbo leaned upwards and captured Thorin's mouth in an encore, a shorter kiss by many means, but no less enjoyable. It was shorter, but it was hotter, and wetter, with brief flickings of tongue that had Bilbo's heart fluttering. Sparing one last glance at Thorin, Bilbo stepped away and went down the hall and into the dining room, quivering underneath the heavy gaze locked on his back.

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Thorin did bandage Bilbo's hands, tenderly washing the cuts and applying salves to avoid infection. The entire time his face was burning, and his stomach churning. He'd been so close, so close, to revealing what Bilbo meant to him, and how much. The mere thought was mortifying for Thorin, as the furthest they'd gotten was simple and harmless flirting. Small comments that conveyed appreciation and attraction, nothing more, despite how much Thorin wished it so. Until now.

Bilbo's kiss had been very unexpected, but undoubtedly welcome. Who knew that his shy little hobbit was such a devilish kisser? 

Now he sat at the dining room table with the Baggins family, facing Bilbo, trying to catch his eye, but the hobbit was adamant on avoiding his gaze. As always Belladonna and Bungo were as friendly as they were accommodating, asking him well-versed and thought provoking questions. Thorin had even gotten into a heated (but enjoyable) debate with Belladonna over the superiority of axes verses swords. Bilbo halfheartedly participated, offering his opinion once or twice, but Bungo was near silent, not even pretending for a moment he knew a thing about weapons.

"It does not matter the size of the weapon, Master Oakenshield, what matters most is the way it is wielded." Belladonna said, leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of wine.

Thorin scoffed. "So you mean to say that a small dagger is just as effective as a warhammer?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "They both get the job done, do they not? An assassin in the night can make good use of a small dagger, and the same goes for a loud and passionate warrior who wields a warhammer. Both can be used to to protect or to harm. It does not matter in the way in which they are done. It only matters is that the deed is completed."

Belladonna gave a squeak of amused laughter, chuckling with mirth and giving Bilbo a proud look. Bilbo only smiled, glancing down at his roasted beef, casting up a shy glance at Thorin and quickly looking away. Smiling shyly, Bilbo bit his lower lip, and Thorin felt a large foot brush against his own. (Belladonna insisted that Thorin remove his steel-capped boots at meal time, and he was expected to walk about barefoot around the house) Causing a hot wave of something undefinable curling his belly and tickling up his spine. Thorin swallowed and looked down at Bilbo, who was looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes, smiling a bit. Thorin smiled back, and Bilbo seemed to take it as encouragement, nudging his furry foot against Thorin's. Thorin nudged back, marveling at the slight pink that rose to the hobbit's cheeks. 

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo was alarmingly nervous. 

For the umpteenth time that afternoon Bilbo checked his appearance in the mirror, muttering to himself over the appearance of his clothes. He didn't want to look too formal or stuffy, but he couldn't just wear anything! What was the proper dress anyway? He himself had never done this before, and he didn't want it to be too much. He wanted to dress nice, but he wouldn't like to overwhelm Thorin.

Bilbo knew that sometimes too formal of a proposal was stunning–and not always in the best of ways. He himself had gone into a panic when it'd happened to him, a sweet lass in her finest, beaming up at him and asking to court, stockpiles of treats offered. The more formal the requests were, the more uncomfortable they were and they were all that harder to refuse. Not that he thought Thorin would refuse him, he just couldn't stand the idea of making his dwarf uncomfortable. But, Bilbo also knew too casual of a courting request was disappointing. It showed that someone wasn't too serious about you, and you were most likely a passing fancy. 

Thorin was not a passing fancy. That much was clear. 

So, Bilbo was in a bit of a bind. He was unsure of how to proceed, or how to. He only knew that he was desperate to court Thorin and fully intent on doing so. It was now full-on June and their fateful encounter had occurred in early March, right in the middle of the rainy season. He knew the dwarf would leave for home at the beginnings of winter, and Bilbo could not stand the idea of him not returning. But perhaps if he had someone to draw him back, he wouldn't leave for good. Bilbo was adamant on asking Thorin to court, and his only problem was on what would be well received.

There was a familiar rhythmic tapping of his door, and Bilbo cleared his throat. Stuttering out a hesitant "come in". He didn't spare his mother a glance, and instead focused on his appearance in the mirror, frowning at the cravat he wore. 

"Oh dear." Belladonna said, smiling softly at her son, gathering his attention. "It's happening isn't it? My only son is about to ask someone to court." Her eyes were welling up with tears, which came as quite a surprise to Bilbo, as he'd never seen either of his parents cry. 

Bilbo gasped and immediately ran to her side, squeezing her into a tight embrace. "Don't cry mother! It's not so bad as you think. We don't know if he may even say yes."

Belladonna pulled away from her son, tears falling down her comely face. "Oh Bilbo." She sighed, grinning through her tears. "That isn't the case at all. We both know well enough that there isn't any way that Thorin will say no. The dwarf is well in love with you already."

Bilbo blushed and he looked down and away from his mother, stomach twisting and heart pounding. 

Belladonna tutted. "None of that, now. You're about to ask your intended to court, you should be joyous!" A devilish gleam in her eye, Belladonna turned to the door and called for her husband. "Bungo! Do come quickly! Your son is about to ask his intended to court!"

Bilbo only sighed, mortified by the ridiculousness of his parents, hiding his face when Bungo burst into the room, sobbing as much as Belladonna had. The two leaned on each other, staring at Bilbo with shining eyes and red noses, regaling each other with tales of his first everything. After some time Bilbo had exclaimed for them to stop their crying about and to assist him with his dressing, as he had no idea what to wear.

Belladonna had only chuckled, asking him why he didn't say so from the start. As she had experience with dwarfs, due to her travels in her youth, and Bungo had quite an eye for fashion. Bilbo only huffed, muttering to himself in an annoyed breath over the ridiculousness of parents.

•…•…•…•…•…•

If Bilbo was dressed any differently, Thorin really had not noticed. As soon as the hobbit stepped into the forge, Thorin was staring at his face, his eyes, his lips, his smile, his hair. The hobbit's state of dress went completely over his head, as he was instead marveling at the appearance of his dearest. 

"Are you ready?" Bilbo asked, fidgeting slightly. 

Thorin nodded, and they silently set down the path as they usually did, unusually quiet though, both locked deep into thought. They stepped into the meadow, and Bilbo quickly set about to setting up the picnic, muttering quietly to himself. Thorin smiled at hearing it, as Bilbo's personal commentary was often amusing in its satirical manner. Bilbo was being a bit more fussy than usual, and Thorin amounted it to Bilbo missing their usual picnic a week prior. 

Bilbo motioned for Thorin to sit, and Thorin– smothering a chuckle, sat down next to his hobbit. Today was one of the few days Thorin had foregone his usual armor, due to the sticky heat that clung to everything as well as his knowledge that armor wasn't really needed in the shire. His hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and he wore a dark blue tunic as well as some brown trousers. Humming a low tune, he made quick work of his boots, catching the amused look Bilbo gave him. Shrugging a shoulder, Thorin gave him a small smile. "Sometimes it's nice to go without shoes."

Bilbo just flashed him a mischievous grin as he fished out their lunch from the basket. "Oh, don't I know it. It seems we'll make a hobbit of you yet, Thorin."

Thorin gave a low chuckle at that, chest rumbling as his shoulders shook. Tilting his head to the side, Thorin balanced his right arm across his right knee, left leg extended out, body relaxed in the very image of comfort. Bilbo handed him a small little round cake about the size of Thorin's fist, looking suddenly nervous. 

It was a simple cake, covered with startlingly white and smooth frosting, a bright red cherry sitting right on the top. It was placed on a fine and delicate plate with flower engravings and paintings on the edges, depicting long stemmed crimson roses. Thorin wasn't sure why, but the moment struck him as very important. 

Clearing his throat at Thorin's curious look, Bilbo looked down at his hands. "Thorin Oakenshield, I have come here today for specific reasons. I have a very strong affection for you–"

Thorin's stomach gave a funny turn. He knew Bilbo cared for him, the many kisses they'd shared as well as the longing looks had told him that much, but it was still magnificent to hear it said from his One's mouth. 

"And I like to believe that the affection is returned." Bilbo said in a quick rush of breath, ears reddening under Thorin's attentive gaze. "Therefore, it is my wish, to formally court you in the ways of my people." Bilbo squeaked out.

Thorin smiled and placed the cake down to grasp onto Bilbo's hands. "Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, I have heard your request and accept it, as long as you hear the offer I have to make."

Bilbo looked up, biting his lip nervously. 

"I too, wish to court you in the traditions of my people. I pledge myself to you and only to you, and as long as I shall live you shall want for nothing. I offer my heart to you undyingly, no matter the means. I promise to protect and care for you as I would no other."

Bilbo squeaked again, eyes widening and jaw dropping open. There were tears on the corners of his eyes, and his lower lip was trembling. Looking ridiculously mournful about the whole thing, Bilbo grabbed onto Thorin's neck and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled him down for a kiss. 

Bilbo pressed his lips against Thorin's with vigor, making a wet sound that had Thorin's heart pounding. Sighing into the kiss, Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap, so that he may have better leverage, and the surprised squeak Bilbo made was utterly worth it. Thorin buried his hands with Bilbo's hair, working his jaw, pressing his tongue deeply against Bilbo's. Bilbo moaned at that, hands scratching lightly against Thorin's back. The hobbit nibbled on Thorin's lower lip, and Thorin shuddered from the intensity of it. Humming his approval, Thorin took over, dominating the kiss with his gentle suckling on Bilbo's lip. 

Gasping for breath, Bilbo pulled back, resting his hand on Thorin's chest. And it was really unfair of how the sight of his hobbit— with flushed cheeks, darkened eyes and bright red lips made him feel so delighted. Smiling, he leaned forward to rub his nose over his hobbit's cheek, brushing it down over his throat, burying his face there. Thorin gently nipped at the skin, licking over it in apology immediately afterwards, feeling a bit guilty for being so rough with his hobbit. Thorin brushed his cheeks over Bilbo's throat, kissing and licking, retreating when Bilbo's contented sighs turned into giggles.

"What?" Thorin asked, blinking at Bilbo. 

Bilbo brought his hands to his lips and giggled at Thorin. "It tickles."

"Tickles?"

"Yes. Your beard. It tickles." Thoughtfully he added, "I've never kissed anyone with a beard before." 

Thorin smiled. "So is that a yes?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you accept my terms?"

"Oh! OH. Oh, yes of course I do, Thorin!" And at that, Bilbo pressed up against him, claiming his mouth in a kiss that had Thorin's toes curling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you QueenofShire405 for being so patient with this blacksmith prompt! I promise you are going to get the sexy smut you asked for, as well as the other parts of the prompt which I'm not going to mention in case of spoilers for others!


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